


What is the proper function (of peace of mind?)

by The_Readers_Muse



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anon wanted a: 'if Andrea made it to Alexandria' fic, Established Relationship, F/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 21:53:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5308220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Readers_Muse/pseuds/The_Readers_Muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What do you think?" she asked, breathing in the billowing steam from her seat on the toilet lid as Milton stepped out of the shower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What is the proper function (of peace of mind?)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead. Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.
> 
> Authors Note #1: Anon wanted the following: "If Andrea made it to Alexandria." – I am not sure how, but somehow it turned into Milandrea (Milton/Andrea.) So hopefully that is okay with nonny. The scene is set as they are settling into their house in the ASZ after being accepted with Team Family into the community.
> 
> Warnings: AU from the end of season three on, mild sexual content, adult language.

"What do you think?" she asked, breathing in the billowing steam from her seat on the toilet lid as Milton stepped out of the shower. Blinking near-sightedly as he quickly wrapped a towel around his waist. Still host to that same neurotic nervousness. The part that still cared about modesty and similar 'social protocols', as he called it, after so many months on the road.

He ran a towel through his hair, now long, honey-brown and curling down his nape as he thought it through. Frowning, just like he always did when he was thinking before answering. Hearing his voice in the back of his head – chiding - as she shifted impatiently.

_Quality before quantity, Andrea._

_It's like when you wait for the right moment to take a shot._

_It's always better to do it right the first time._

Instead, she distracted herself by following the beads of water still trickling down his chest. Strong hips denting the lean muscle that had developed through necessity since they'd escaped from Woodsbury. Since they'd lost the Prison. Since Terminus and that long stretch of lonely road that seemed to branch off into forever until Aaron and Eric had found them.

"I think they've been very lucky," he said finally, turning to face her. Still stubble-strewn and familiar despite the thick layer of grime that had peeled off under the spray. Looking at his fogged up glasses before putting them back down with a sigh. "I think they are good people. Something that seems to be in short supply these days, unfortunately."

She tilted her head, not quite nodding. Too caught up in seeing double through the steam as flicker-flashes of moments that had come before -  _memories_ \- whisked across the surface of her mind's eye. The seconds in between the maelstrom that carved out the path that showed how they'd gotten from where they'd been, limping out of Woodsbury together – blood streaked and alive - to where they were now. What they  _meant_  to each other now.

"This place? Well, it's extraordinary. Assuming the other equipment works as Deanna promised I see no reason why I can't improve their energy expenditure by at least forty percent. Better if I had more spare parts to work with."

"But?" she prompted, shaking her hair out of its ponytail as the steam threatened sweat at her temples. Knowing him well enough by now to sense when there was one of those coming.

"But they are children playing a game. Not really living it," Milton replied honestly, blunt and gently cut-throat as everything she'd been thinking slipped out of his lips like looking in a mirror. "Deanna wants us to teach them. But even she doesn't know what that means. She knows what the world is now, but she hasn't seen it. She thinks she has. But she hasn't. None of them have."

"When she did my interview it was like looking at myself before Phillip started to spiral. It's like it was in Woodsbury, only worse," he replied with a shallow wince. Stopping to reorder his thoughts as he fiddled with the shaving kit that'd come in their hamper from the pantry.

"In Woodsbury the people didn't know things on purpose. Phillip- the Governor - controlled information like he did the ammo and supplies. Who went in, who went out. Instead, this is like- well, free range. Anyone can come and go, but none of them really know what it's like out there. They're us, but how we were in the beginning. They haven't had to make those decisions. They haven't had to do what we've had to. They have the knowledge but none of the practice, none of the skill."

She watched as he leaned up against the counter, forearms braced and freckle-pretty across the flawless granite. Imagining that if she could see his expression in the fogged up mirror it would be looking back at her – wild and bright. Just like it'd been after one close call too many when something in him had just snapped and suddenly he was pulling her willingly into him. Sheathing himself inside her for the first time as she bit down on his lower lip until her tongue ran with his red.

She still liked to remind him of that particular moment in the woods.

He always blushed such interesting colors.

"I don't think we're going to mesh like Deanna wants us to. Especially not Rick. To him this place is a threat as much as it is a refuge. And I can't say he's completely wrong either. These people need us, but I'm not sure Rick is willing to risk taking that chance."

She nodded, remembering the look on Rick's face when they'd approached the gates. Realizing the watch tower was unmanned. That there were no other barricades than the main wall. No permanent guard at the gate.  _Nothing._

"And you?" he asked, turning around to face her thing time as he abandoned the disposable razor beside the tap like the idea of trying was too much work to even contemplate.

She opened her mouth to answer. Knees rubbing together in brand new jeans that still smelled like dust and fabric softener. But all that came out was-

"I'm tired."

He nodded like he just knew. Ignoring the clean clothes folded neat and meticulous from where he'd left them on the counter by the sink. Taking her hand and easing her up as she went to him willingly. Lifting her arms as he gentled her shirt up and over her head and smoothed over-hot fingers down her sides. Kissing her gently on the forehead as he led her towards the bedroom.

"Let's go to bed."

* * *

 

It was still light out but both of them were asleep before they could get untangled. Holding each other as the minutes turned into hours and the door to their room eased open enough so that the person looking in could catch sight of them before sneaking it closed again just as quietly. Letting them rest despite the smell of dinner wafting determinedly up the stairs behind them.

They needed this.

The people.

The walls.

The bed.

All of it.

And for now, it was theirs.


End file.
